


deartj.docx

by cyrusgoodhair



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Diary/Journal, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Epistolary, Friends to Lovers, Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-08-13 06:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20169622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyrusgoodhair/pseuds/cyrusgoodhair
Summary: "Dear TJ,You suck.Sincerely,Buffy and Cyrus"Buffy stops. Cyrus doesn't.





	1. Sincerely

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this fic is essentially just a retelling of most of seasons 2 and 3 from Cyrus's perspective, made a lot more personal through a Microsoft Word document on Cyrus's laptop. Things are generally same as the show, except for certain things added here and there to provide more insight into Cyrus's world and thoughts on things. It's the same twists and turns—just plenty of more depth to them and everything in-between.
> 
> Warning: I can't figure out how to indent on this god-forsaken site, so if any of you know how to do that, please help.

Dear TJ,

You suck.

Sincerely,  
Buffy and Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

You still suck.

Sincerely,  
Buffy and Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

We really don’t like you. You’re mean, and scary, and generally just not a nice person. Go get a job, you unvarnished doorknob (Buffy says I should say something meaner, but I don’t know who you are, so we’ll stick with wishing you gainful employment until that happens).

Sincerely,  
Mostly just Cyrus (and a little bit of Buffy)

* * *

Dear TJ,

Hey, it’s just Cyrus now. Buffy and I kind of forgot about this letter-writing thing for like a few days, but it was really fun when we were doing it, so I’m going to continue, even if I have to do it alone, which I am doing, because she isn't here. This just sounds really awkward, so I’m going to just skip ahead and pretend like I’m not overexplaining my situation.

So, anyway, I am currently stuck inside my mom’s house for the next few days, because I don’t have a functional left thumb, which isn’t honestly that prohibitive to doing anything involving the outdoors, but my mom would probably worry herself sick if I wasn’t cooped up in my bedroom. The only thing it really makes difficult is typing, but even then I just have to overcompensate with all the other fingers; however, it’s either typing or studying more texts for my bar mitzvah for me, so I am definitely sticking with you for as long as possible. If I keep learning any more, I fear I’d be reprogramming my brain to the point where I couldn’t understand anything but Hebrew.

I should probably explain why my thumb is broken (can’t just leave that kind of information out, you know?). Well, earlier today I saw Jonah skateboarding around, and he somehow managed to charm me into learning how to skate with him, which he tends to do pretty often (both the charming and the skating parts). It was really fun to skirt on the edge of danger, even if said danger was just the fact that I didn’t know how to control a plank of wood on wheels. I’m pretty straight-laced, so letting go was just so… exhilarating! Well, until the crash part happened anyway, but by then there was enough adrenaline in my system to numb the pain for a good while. However, I’m probably going to stick with something less physically dangerous when it comes to letting loose in the future. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to stay the night at a non-family member’s house! How exciting!

Uh, but now my hand hurts from trying to hold my thumb up while I type, so I guess this goodnight? It’s a letter, but I don’t think I’ve really sent letters that aren’t to my local government representative before, so I don’t know how this really goes. But yeah, muscle pain is happening, so bye!

Sincerely,  
Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

I am still trapped inside the dungeon that is my house. My wardens conspire against me, plotting to keep me trapped here for eternity, or at least until the end of the weekend, as by then I’ll have run out of excused absences. I need some knight errant to save me from this woeful existence before I perish from sheer boredom.

Honestly though, I should be just fine. I managed to convince Mom to let Buffy come over tomorrow so that we can play on Buffy’s Switch (she just got Breath of the Wild (!!!)). Andi also sent me this neat documentary about the Galapagos Islands she found on Netflix, and while I’m grateful for her suggestion, it just reminds me of Iris, really. I haven’t talked to her since I left her house, and thinking about it all just makes feel like a horrible person for ditching and then ghosting her, but I really can’t tell her why.

I was barely able to tell Buffy that I just liked Jonah! It’s so much harder to tell someone who likes you that you don’t like her back (especially since she’s just so nice and wonderful and I really do like her, just not in that kind of way). And now she probably hates me, and I really do deserve to be locked up here for what I’ve done.

I’m going to cut this short, since you probably don’t want to hear me beating myself up a bunch; I don’t even want to hear this either, so I’m probably going to go to bed right after I finish writing this letter and try to sleep these feelings off. Here’s hoping that works like usual.

Sincerely,  
Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

Buffy and I went to the Spoon two days ago, and when we were coming in, Buffy pointed you out at the record store next door, and to be honest, you really do look as scary as she said, though I think part of that is just my anxiety talking, because most guys around my age who have hit puberty tend to activate my fight-or-flight response. Mom says that that’s normal, but I don’t know if she’s ever been a teenage boy before (so her advice on that matter is pretty suspect if you ask me). But yeah, you still are kind of terrifying. Not sure what to make of that, but be my guest if you’d like a crack at my poor teenage psyche.

Your undercut is cool, by the way. I thought I should say something nice about you because I still don’t actually know you in-person, and I just really like nice hair, and you have nice hair, so that all seemed to match up.

But you still suck for being mean to Buffy, so there’s that, too. I mean, she took my advice and actually tried talking for once, and it still didn’t go well! Do you know how rare it is that she doesn’t just skip all the way to the part where she’s yelling? Extremely!

I’m just getting too frustrated to keep on writing, so I’m going to bed. Pouting. All because of you being a jerk to my friend.

Sincerely,  
Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

It has been a weird few days since we last talked, or I wrote a fake letter to you, or whatever you’d say to describe this sort of weird not-really-real relationship-thingy, and I am no longer frustrated at you. I mean, I’m still upset by that of course, but after seeing how my parents are when they’re mad at each other, I can understand the conflict between you and Buffy. I mean, at least you guys still interact and talk, which is impressive because my parents are shrinks and can’t even manage that half the time.

At school, as you probably know (considering you also go there), we had that whole wristband thing happen, and it was probably one of the most confusing days of my life, right up there with the kiss with Iris.

I was in Group A with Andi, and Buffy and Jonah got put into Group B, and the whole day was just this weird sort of experiment in blithely ignoring the rules that, while nice because of all the preferential treatment, really just left me with this sort of strange knot of anxious thoughts in my head. As you probably know by now, I am not one for breaking with what’s generally expected, so I just kind of kept to myself and Andi and hoped it would all figure itself out.

Unfortunately, it came down to Andi and I to bring things back to normal, which was almost worse, because at least the first scenario didn’t involve everyone’s eyes being on me. But we did sort of fix everything, even if there was a food fight involved and I had to deal with the surprising amount of anxiety walking across a cafeteria with a pan of fresh cookies brought in that moment, and now it’s all over, thankfully. The status quo may finally resume once more.

Sincerely,  
Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

Andi’s losing her house. I mean, she’s still staying with her mom, but she’s losing Andi Shack, and I really don’t want that to happen because I love Andi Shack almost as she does. Her grandparents are moving to some smaller place because Andi moved out, and Buffy and I are doing all we can to keep Andi from crying about it at every opportunity (luckily, talking about Jonah seems to work, mostly). She really hasn’t told us too much about the situation otherwise, but I’ll keep you updated.

In other news, I tried to write a movie! Unfortunately, according to Becks (Bex? Bekz? I’ve never actually spelled it out before), it wasn’t good, which sucked, because I worked really hard on the script for days. She told me to keep trying, but honestly, I’m starting to doubt whether it’s for me or not, though that’s probably just because I don’t want to have to deal with the embarrassment of being told my movie is horrible. Maybe I’m secretly into something else, or at the very least I might find out that I’m secretly good at screenwriting—perhaps an intergalactic ping-pong film noir was a little too ambitious for my first film project.

I sure hope I am. Todd says that I’ll find my life’s passion at some point, but I don’t really know how I’m supposed to find it, or when. I don’t want to be in a nursing home and go, “oh, I bet I really like crocheting!” and then croak immediately after (no offense to the crocheters out there—we love you Aunt Ruthie!).

I just really want to have my thing, you know? Andi says I shouldn’t use the word gimmick for it, because it sounds like it’s fake, but like everyone has their gimmick, right? Andi does crafts, Buffy’s competitive, Jonah’s a golden retriever given human form, Amber’s a snorpion or whatever, and you’re... mean? The team captain? Something along those lines? I actually don’t know if you have a gimmick or anything, but at least I’m not the only one who has yet to figure it out.

I feel a lot better after writing this, though. If only ranting on a Microsoft Word document to someone you don’t actually talk to was more of a publicly respectable passion for someone to have. Maybe that could be my gimmick?

Sincerely,  
Cyrus

P.S. Andi says it’s spelled Bex. I don’t know if you would care about that, or if it’s even important information at all, but I thought you should know because it interested me… except you’re never going to read this, so, I guess I can do what I want or whatever.

* * *

Dear TJ,

Hey, it’s me again. I’m not stopping, even if your fictionalized self that I use for writing about my day-to-day problems wanted me to, because you’re not real, and can’t even read this, I guess. This is actually just kind of depressing start to this letter, so I’m just going to try again and hopefully get it right.

Hi scary basketball guy! You don’t actually totally suck! I mean, you needlessly squashed a muffin in the cafeteria yesterday, and that’s not cool (I really wanted that chocolate chocolate chip muffin), but you did help me get one today, so that cancels out, right? It was a pretty good muffin after all, and that counts for extra. And I got to feel like I actually knew what I was doing (which I definitely did not, but confidence does feel nice)! So thank you for that, TJ. You’re not all bad.

Still doesn’t make up for you being mean to Buffy, though.

I feel bad that she has to tutor you in math, but at the very least she can be better than you at something, even if it’s basic algebra. Knowing her, she’s probably going to talk a bunch about how good it feels to have better math grades than you to me and Andi, which will probably suck, but at least it’s better than her only complaining about you. But she’s probably going to complain about being forced to spend more time with you, and that’s also going to suck, and it’s only now that I realize that maybe this isn’t actually a good thing, but hey, it’s progress (I think)!

By the way, I liked your outfit today! It was a brave choice (I mean, a dark burgundy shirt with a gray hoodie-vest-thing is truly bold), which means I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing! I mean, it’s like, different and all that, and kind of edgy, and I really am glad I’m just typing this out to myself, because this sounds simply horrible and I’m afraid that saying this would earn me a punch in the mouth, and I really don’t want that because my parents paid like $30,000 for these teeth and I don’t want any more hardware in my mouth because it really hurt last time.

This letter-type-document-thingy doesn’t totally make a bunch of sense really, but I actually still like writing this, so I guess it works! Hooray for functional coping mechanisms! I’ve got this, swinging, venting to Andi or Buffy, sweets, and, like… I think watching Twilight for the umpteenth time counts, right? Pretending you’re a badly-written girl with supernatural romantic options really does make life’s troubles seem distant, so I’m pretty sure that that’s a valid option for dealing with your feelings. But hey, you probably would hate that movie, and think I’m the least coolest person for watching it, so I’m not ever going to mention that to you in-person, but fake digital you still gets all this juicy stuff.

I mean, I don’t think we’re ever really going to talk that much, so it doesn’t really matter at all, does it? I still care, though! Kind of. Not really, honestly, but I tend to focus too much on how people think of me, so I probably do, but not specifically your opinion or anything. You’re just part of the general group of people who could judge me, and that matters to me, I guess.

I really need to talk to someone about that.

Sincerely,  
Cyrus

P.S. I really need to stop doing run-on sentences, because Mr. Estevez says that’s the sign of a bad writer, but I just have a lot to say and not a lot of periods available for use in my writing (I have seven every school day, and that’s it. I get absolutely nothing extra on weekends).

P.P.S. I tried texting Andi that joke an hour ago, and she told me that I had lost my joking privileges for the month. I need friends with a better sense of humor. Or better jokes. Probably the latter.

* * *

Dear TJ,

First things first: I discovered the em dash. Look at this baby—so cool, right? We had a lesson on fancy punctuation today, and I just really like using it. Or, well, attempting to use it, but I have a plan: I’m going to use it at least once in every letter to you. Or at least try to when I actually remember, but I can put a sticky note on my desk to remind myself, which will hopefully work. But on to actual things that aren’t just grammar nerding-out.

So, you remember how my bar mitzvah is coming up at the end of the month, right? Well, it seems like everything involving that is getting a bit more complicated than I first expected. My parents haven’t talked to each other since I broke my thumb (they both blamed each other’s influence for it), so my rabbi and I have to ferry information from one to the other, which means that most of the preparations not involving the reservation at the temple are just kind of in this weird limbo for a bit. For mental health professionals, they are horrible at communication, but at the very least it means I get more input on the situation.

Actually, that’s a lie—this is far more terrifying than I thought it would be. All this freedom just really adds up to a bunch of confusion, and it’s way different than anything else I know. I mean, at ultimate frisbee, Jonah handles the tournament dates and all that, and I’m just in charge of making sure nobody starves or gets skin cancer during games. Now, I have to learn how to order catering and plan a good party, and as someone who doesn’t know anything about parties, that’s a tall order. I’m probably going to ask Andi or Bex about this (they’ve hosted a fair bit of house parties), but honestly, I don’t think they know anything about traditional Jewish ceremonies, aside from the fact that I’ll be wearing a yarmulke and there will be a lot of food. At least I can handle invites pretty easily.

You know, I don’t think you’re Jewish or anything either, but you do seem like the type of guy with party experience, so maybe if you’re willing to continue your streak of helping me with problems, I could ask you for advice! Probably not, because I don’t really know you at all, and you’re still pretty scary, but it’s a nice thought, if just that. Maybe in the future you can help with something with a similar level of importance to me, like… graduation? Coming out? I don’t really know. Actually, cross coming out off the list. It’s already terrifying enough, and you would probably add to the level of scare factor of that.

Still, I’m stuck at square one, but hopefully that’ll change in the coming days. I really don’t want my bar mitzvah to be a failure, and especially for it to be my fault. I’ll keep you updated—wish me luck! Even if the real you doesn’t really know anything about my problem (or even if I’m Jewish)!

Sincerely,  
Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

I’m worried about Andi. She’s been so obsessed with Jonah and this girl he’s been hanging out with (Natasha, maybe?) that we can barely talk about anything else, even puppies—cute ones, at that! I mean, sure, there’s a video of them together at a pool party, but that technically doesn’t prove anything. I mean, I’m around Andi and Buffy all the time, and we certainly aren’t a thing… though I guess I am around Jonah a lot, and I certainly wish him and I were a thing. Well, minus the times where he is really oblivious, which is fairly often, to be honest.

I realize I haven’t really explained who Jonah is to you yet, so I should probably elaborate on him. He’s really nice and smiley, and he has these really pretty green eyes, and I honestly really do like him, even if I have to attend frisbee practice and games for him, but generally he looks so happy and cute during and after them that it makes up for how dreadfully boring they are. Buffy’s the only one who knows that I like him, but I guess you do too now, if only it’s this fictional version of you that I talk to regularly. Maybe if you ever find out, you won’t hate me for it. That’s all I’m really hoping for from anybody, I guess.

Sincerely,  
Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

I have never been more excited on a school night than I am for tomorrow—Andi invited me and Buffy for a sing-along, and it’s Grease! It’s like my third favorite non-Twilight movie! And I actually know most of the words to the songs! We all have plans to dress up for it (Buffy’s dad is actually embroidering her a poodle skirt! How cool is that?), and I am SO ready to turn heads with my pleather jacket and gelled-up hair. Hopefully all of this will help distract Andi from her Jonah troubles.

Actually, an update on her Jonah troubles is probably due. Buffy and I decided to go full detective mode and spy on Jonah and Natalie today, which was honestly rather boring (even though there were plenty of trick shots involved). I mean, Buffy and I got to make a lot of great jokes (mine were better, of course) and act like we were serious detectives who actually knew what they were doing, but watching two people who barely interact with each other aside from talking do exactly that is probably one of the most monotonous tasks I’ve ever had the misfortune of completing. Even the fact that it was Jonah himself did nothing for me. I mean, sure, he’s cute, but he’s oddly… on? Like all the time? Just very smiley and nice and perfect as always, but it’s very hard to get any sort of detailed read on him.

Buffy told me that it was just because he was practicing and that you can’t really do anything BUT be on during that sort of thing, but to be honest, it's always the case for him. Very sweet and happy, but distant, like he’s talking to you from ten feet away and won’t let you get any closer. I worry it’s a mask—I mean, the guy seems to have friends (lots of pleasant acquaintances, really), but beyond us, I don’t think he has anyone who he actually talks to about non-topical stuff.

I mean, do I even know his favorite color? Or where he lives? I don’t. I should probably talk to him about that soon; well, at least I will, once I figure out how to say it—you’re much easier to talk to than him about these kinds of things.

Sincerely,  
Cyrus

P.S. I convinced Buffy to let me use a nice manila envelope from my stepmom’s office during a dramatic reveal scene with Andi! Unfortunately, I had to compromise and not bring out my stylish detective gear, so my stunning outfit will have to remain hidden away until next Halloween. Maybe I can show you it some time?

* * *

Dear TJ,

Grease has moved on up to the coveted spot of second-best non-Twilight movie, no questions asked. I would talk more about it, but it’s like currently midnight, and I fear what could happen to my poor, fragile body if I get less than eight hours of sleep, so goodnight! Except, since you kind of live in this Microsoft Word document on my laptop, I guess the distinction of night and day and just time in general is irrelevant to you, but whatever. Goodnight anyway!

Sincerely,  
Cyrus

P.S.: I forgot to mention this part last night, but Andi seemed to be off the whole time. I mean, she sang and got into it all after a bit, but she kept looking at Jonah repeatedly, who just looked like he didn’t even really want to be there. He smiled and laughed a few times, but he just was… there, sitting in his seat, making Andi feel off the whole time. I felt so bad for her, and Buffy and I just talked about almost the whole time we were on the way home. We’re going to try to bake her something together to get her mind off it all, but… to be honest, I don’t think Andi’s the only one hung up about how aloof Jonah is.

* * *

Dear TJ,

The Renaissance Faire is tomorrow! AHHHHHHHH!!!

Okay, my moment of nerdy screaming is over. I’m just really, really excited for it for like the fourth year in a row, because who could pass over an excuse to wear a nice tunic and fancy hat and spew fake Shakespearean lines at your friends (well, I can technically do that whenever I’d like, but I don’t think even Jonah would be able to tolerate that for long)? But still, I am unbelievably ready—I’ve been practicing phrases this whole week, to the annoyance of Andi and Buffy. Truly, calling Buffy “sodden-witten” and “elvish-mark’d” will never get old—never!

The only reason I’ve had the free time to focus on the festival is because the weight of all that bar mitzvah-planning was finally taken off my shoulders by my parents, who are, thank God, talking again, even if it’s only about the reservations. I swear, they need to stop worrying about how their bitter divorce affected me and worry about how a horrible bar mitzvah could affect me instead. At the very least, this is a start, and a promising one at that, so I am counting my blessings. Perhaps all my worries were just for nothing.

I wonder how you’re doing, though. I mean, it is kind of weird to be writing fake letters to someone that I haven’t talked to in like two weeks who probably doesn’t even like me at all, but hey, here I am, doing exactly that. With no repercussions, too! You are really letting me off the hook here, you know. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you like me!

Unfortunately, I do know better, as usual.

Sincerely,  
Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

I finally told Iris.

Okay, that sounds super dramatic, but it honestly wasn’t at all, which is really weird? I don’t really know what to make of it, but I’ll do my best to explain it all here.

She took it super well, actually, even if I didn’t tell her the whole story behind why I didn’t want to be her boyfriend. I mean, I saw her at the Renaissance Faire, and she basically just extracted what I meant from all the blubbering I did, and then just was okay with it, which is completely wild. I guess Buffy did the same a while back, but it’s different, because Iris likes me! Like that!

I guess it just confirms my suspicion that girls are inherently easier to talk to about this, or really anything, which would explain why I have such trouble actually interacting with Jonah. And I guess you too, but that’s really just because you look like you’ve gone through puberty and being at least a few inches taller than me is a sure-fire way to make me feel perpetually threatened. All boys tend to inspire fear in me, really, but I am working on that (thanks, therapy!).

But, to be honest, that feeling is amplified with you—I mean, you have this aura of just sheer presence and I can’t help but feel this weird mixture of awe and fear whenever you’re around, like I’m some tiny little Mesozoic mammal scuttling about on the jungle floor, and you’re this huge titanosaur rising all the way up into the clouds, and it’s all I can do to hope that you don’t step on me.

You probably don’t get the specific details of that simile, but the general idea’s hard to mistake, even if Buffy’s right about you not doing super well in school. I mean, I generally feel that way about everyone to be honest, except maybe Andi and Buffy, but part of me thinks that if I were to truly get to know you, I would realize that you truly aren’t this big sauropod, but another little mammal like me, with the same little problems and a whole lot of big ideas.

Maybe that’s just me being overly hopeful about all of this, but I just really don’t want to always feel like I’m writing to someone who, if they were to somehow read the letters I wrote to them, would find me and mash me into a gooey pulp that looks like it once could’ve been a teenage boy. I guess that means I might need to find someone else to write to, but I guess I’ll continue to stick with you for now. For all I know, maybe you’ll actually like to read this someday!

Sincerely,  
Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

We talked today! And you know what? You actually aren’t all that bad—it was honestly pretty nice talking with you earlier on the swings. I mean, Buffy still says you’re giving her trouble at almost every opportunity, but I guess that’s between you and Buffy, and I’m just here on the sidelines getting information every so often. That’s not too bad or anything really, but it sucks to feel like I’m not important in this whole situation, and just kind of feels like I’m stuck between you both, hoping not to get hurt in the crossfire.

I mean, I do support Buffy, because all the things you do to her are just these really mean things, but at the same time, I know Buffy isn’t the best at letting things go—I just don’t want to get hurt by it all. You guys seem to both have such big personalities around each other that I’m worried I’ll get squished when you both inevitably start to fill up the whole room with your feud, and that neither of you will notice until it’s too late.

But you know what? When we were talking earlier today at the playground, I felt like I had found another little Mesozoic mammal, one that’s just always in this giant sauropod suit, doing everything he can to make people think he’s one of the big guys and not small and weak. And for once, I didn’t feel so small, if only for a few minutes. In those precious moments, it was really nice to swing with someone who I didn’t think could step on me.

Thank you for that.

Sincerely,  
Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

Nothing has actually happened since we last talked yesterday, but I just have a lot on my mind, and I don’t know who I can talk to right now about all of these thoughts. Buffy’s still confused about us talking yesterday (I don’t even know how to deal with that whole can of worms), and Andi’s got her own parents’ problems to worry about, and I definitely can’t tell Jonah, because he’s… Jonah. So now it’s just you who’s here to listen to me complain about all this stuff that I can’t even fully wrap my own head around. Buckle up, buckaroo, because this is one truly wild show.

I really liked talking to you.

Wow, mind-blowing, right? I mean, I said something along those lines yesterday night, but the implications of that fact only just hit me this afternoon, and now I’m stuck brooding over all of them. Why did you talk to me? Why did I enjoy it? Do I want to talk to you again? Should I be embarrassed about having playground songs? Should I make more to impress you? Why do I want to impress you? None of it makes any sense, so I’m just going to prattle on here and hope it helps me figure this all out.

First things first, we need to answer why you decided to talk to me. I don’t really think the fictional you I’m ranting to right now is able to answer that question, so I’m stuck with theorizing on your reasoning. Was I just the closest person nearby, and you absolutely had to talk to me or else you would die, like some sort of poor mismanaged Sim with a low social bar? I mean, probably not, considering that you walked up to me (at least I think so) at the swings and then started talking, and there were plenty of other people around. Also, you know that I’m friends with Buffy, so there’s really not much reason to chat with me if you’ve really got beef going on (and based on how you both act about it, I’m pretty sure you guys do).

Maybe it’s that I’m not a threat? Sure, I know Buffy, and you guys are currently going at it, but like I said yesterday, Mesozoic mammal here, questionable impression of a sauropod there. Maybe you thought I could relate to your problems as a fellow small rodent-ish animal in this horribly-extended metaphor I keep on using? Regardless of whatever ancient species we are, I guess I did feel like you were going through the same kind of stuff as me, even if all the context is different. I mean, self-depreciation seems to be a universal constant, and you have proven to be no stranger to such thoughts—at least that’s what I gathered from our conversation.

Perhaps equally as important is the question of why I liked talking with you, or really just BEING with you in general. I mean, I don’t think you complimented me at all (I don’t think “underdog” counts), and while you did push me on the swings, we didn’t actually do anything besides talk. I guess the thrill of going high on a swingset was nice, but I’m pretty sure that was just a small part of the whole situation. Maybe it’s because you’re some kind of bad boy or whatever? I know Buffy (and probably Andi) wouldn’t want me to hang out with you, and my parents might not either, but… I don’t think so.

I think I really just liked being honest with you. I mean, sure, I was a little scared of it all, but I didn’t feel like I had to try to talk to you. I just did, and you talked to me, and I sat there and didn’t feel like that little mammal any more, and maybe you didn’t either. I hope it’s not just me who feels like this. I don’t know how to feel about this connection (I guess that’s the best word for it), but… I think I like it.

Regardless, I need to make sure that we talk again, and soon, in order for me to figure this whole mess out, not-so-scary basketball guy. You owe it to me for that squashed muffin.

That sounded cooler in my head, but whatever. Regardless, I’m dedicated to solving this mystery, so watch out for me, TJ. I’m coming for you.

Your friend(?),  
Cyrus

P.S. Almost forgot my mandatory em dash—thank you desk note! You work hard so I don’t have to!


	2. Your Friend

Dear TJ,

It’s Cyrus again—I’ve not really had the space to figure out what’s going on between us, to be honest. I mean, sure, I’ve had the time, but with all my worries about my upcoming bar-mitzvah, I haven’t had the space. Every waking moment is dominated by the idea of something going wrong, whether it be due to my parents stressing that I absolutely must have my Hebrew down or due to the stack of unsent invitations on my desk.

I am constantly forced to think about my bar mitzvah no matter what I do to give myself some peace of mind, and I would honestly much rather just have the entire student body of Jefferson come out to my house and give me a million papercuts than deal with this torture.

I really just want to think about something else, like Andi’s new craft project or a new shot technique Buffy’s trying out, not how to correctly pronounce what looks like it might be an R or whether or not to send an invitation to a cousin I never talk to.

I would much rather think about you.

I mean, Hebrew’s a dead language (well, not really, but it might as well be dead to me), and I’m sure my rabbi and my family have heard this same part of the Torah plenty of times, and probably most of those times they’ve already heard it will be better than my attempt. I’ve never really met anyone like you, TJ, and you’re far more mysterious and exciting than another argument between my parents about who’s going to be the caterer next week.

I just really wish I could focus on being your friend rather than all the hullabaloo becoming a man entails.

Your friend,

Cyrus 

* * *

Dear TJ,

I’m going to invite you tomorrow.

Well, I’m hoping to. I’m going to make sure Buffy’s okay with that first, because even if I’m friends with you and Buffy, that doesn’t mean you two are friends yet. I really just want to have a completed friend triangle with both of you, or a square if you include Andi, and if I go any farther with that idea my head will combust, because I am probably the worst at processing relationship geometry. The whole love triangle in  _ Twilight _ was enough for me (I was totally Team Bella, though—she deserved a man who wasn’t super old or childish and who had a stable income and a 401k).

But enough romance novel-talk for now (book club is Thursday though, so I can talk about  _ Twilight _ all I want then!)—I need to detail my foolproof plan to ask you out to my bar mitzvah. I’m going to subtly slip the question of whether I can invite you or not into my normal after-school conversation with Buffy so that she doesn’t suspect a thing, and then when she hopefully says yes, I can find you by the busses and get you to come! I mean, there’s like no reason for you to say no, right?

But what if there is? I mean, I think we’re friends, but I’m not actually sure. You’ve never said the words, or even really anything along those lines, and all we’ve really done is get a muffin and swing together, and we haven’t even talked since then, and like, I’m not actually sure why that paltry excuse for a friendship has earned you a coveted spot at my bar-mitzvah, but… 

I really want to invite you. So I’m going to. For whatever reason my subconscious feels you deserve it. And if you say no, then that’s your loss.

But please don’t say no.

Your friend,

Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

You said yes! You said yes, and I’m so happy, and today’s been such a great day, and I’m just going to blurt this all out here because I really don’t want to forget how lovely today was ever.

I got to try on suits for this weekend with Jonah! It was actually pretty nice, since I got to pick the one I liked, but like, Jonah seemed a bit out of it? It was okay though, because I still had a good time and I got to get a really nice blue suit out of it and it was all actually really nice! Well, except for the part where we had to hurry to make it to Buffy’s game and we missed part of it, but we still got to see the best part of it!

You wouldn’t pass Buffy the ball, which sucked, but you did eventually, and that’s progress, and I’m really proud of you for doing that! Good on you! Oh, and you know this part, but Buffy’s mom showed up after being gone for ages and it was one of those nice military reunion videos except it was real life and I even got to talk to her and everything! She’s honestly kind of scary when she’s in her fatigues, but she’s still just as nice as I remember and Buffy was smiling so wide and crying all over the place and it was so sweet and now she won’t stop talking about it and it’s really cool and everything and AHHHHHHH! It’s just all so cool and I can’t get over it, and Andi and Buffy can’t either, and it’s just all everyone’s talking about and I’m so happy for them!

But like, I honestly kind of want to talk about you too, and it sucks because everyone’s just so focused on all of that, but I’m sure you’d love to hear about this, so that’s a solution! I guess to start, you looked really good today, especially on the court! Like, your hair was so floppy and it was really fun to watch it bounce around your head, especially because it was paired with that face you make when you’re super focused on the game and I kept on getting a little bit lost with what was happening because I just really liked looking at you and this is a really bad run-on sentence so I’m going to stop here.

But like, the BEST thing today was that you said yes! Buffy said yes first, and then we talked, and I kind of messed up the words I wanted to use to ask you even though I rehearsed them a bunch in my last period because I was so nervous about how it would go, but you said yes, so it doesn’t matter! It felt so nice when you smiled at me and said you would come, and then we walked together and you asked me about how to get through to Buffy (again, so proud of you for making progress!) and I felt like I was actually your friend! And that was honestly the best feeling I had today, and I’m still kind of feeling it now, because I can’t believe that we’re totally, actually, really, genuinely friends! 

I want to scream that last part at the top of my lungs all night, but it’s like 10 right now and I don’t want to lose my voice tomorrow morning, so I think I’ll settle for writing it in big letters here once and then smiling super big whenever I read it.

TJ KIPPEN AND I ARE FRIENDS.

That felt simply amazing to write—I might have to copy that down in my composition book a few times tomorrow to get that rush again. I kind of feel like the girls that use their fancy little gel pens to write, “Mrs. Dudename Lastname,” in their notebooks over and over again whenever they get a crush, but this is totally different because we’re just guys and I only have a crush on Jonah. I’m absolutely 100% sure that’s the case.

But, um, seriously, thank you for making today great, TJ. I needed this.

Your friend(!!!),

Cyrus

* * *

  
  


Dear TJ,

I never told you that I had anxiety. I mean, I’m sure you picked up on the part where I was really anxious and all that, but I’ve never actually told you that I have, like, actual social anxiety disorder (and maybe general anxiety—Dad and I are still working through that part). I mean, I haven’t really told you all that much in-person yet because we haven’t really talked too much yet, but the you I talk to here hears plenty of stuff about me.

But I never told you that I had anxiety. Well, at least, that’s not really true any more, because I just kind of told you, but still, the point stands that I never told you. I guess I was embarrassed about it? I mean, it’s a big thing to just say that I have it, even if I know that it’s just a different set of behaviors involving social stress, and it’s especially big to say it to you, even if you won’t actually ever read this letter or anything.

I guess it’s also that it’s scary to me? I know I’ve always been weird (Buffy confirmed that for me a while back), but it’s a much more real experience when you put a name to part of the weirdness that makes you up and go, “this is a disorder.” Like, yay, it’s social anxiety disorder, and now I can get treatment and understand my own struggles with social situations, but also it sucks that I have it. It’s a lot easier to just hide and say it’s just a bit of a weird part of you rather than saying you have a full-blown disorder, because everyone can judge you for that, and now you actually know that something is WRONG with you, and I’m probably overthinking this right now.

I just don’t want to be messed up or anything, or for you or anyone else to judge me for that. Like, I know you probably won’t, because you said you have stuff like that too at the swings, and I guess it makes me feel better to know that I’m not alone in this. And, um, you really helped with that panic attack, too, so that’s reassuring.

Actually, I realize now I didn’t actually say this, but I was having a panic attack and went to the swings, and at first you scared me a bit when you came over, but… you really helped me. A lot, actually. So thank you for that—I needed you, or well, someone, but I’m glad it got to be you. I hope I get to help with your problems someday, but I’ll certainly take any chance I get at interacting with you, because we’re mental health buddies, or something along those lines. And definitely not anything else.

Your friend,

Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

My bar mitzvah is tomorrow and I don’t think I’m ready for it at all. Sure, I’ve studied plenty, and all the arrangements are in place, and my parents are talking again, but I don’t feel like I’m ready to become a man. I mean, I don’t know what I want to do, or who I want to be, or even how to do taxes, and it feels like I’m just going to be a thirteen year-old adult fraud who fooled everyone into thinking that he knows what he’s doing. I’m still struggling with writing a letter to you that isn’t filled with run-on sentences, but everyone still expects me to have all my ducks in a nice little row when really they’re just all over the place—like some sort of  _ Where’s Waldo? _ picture but with metaphorical waterfowl.

Bex said I’d figure it all out, but I don’t know if I can, and that scares me. I don’t want to be some failure of a person who works a middling job for forty years and cries himself to sleep until he can’t anymore and then dies. And like, I know that my fears about the matter are probably irrational and that I’m really only 13 and that no one really expects me to be an adult yet, but it all still seems so real and scary, and it makes me panic whenever I actually think about it all, and maybe it’s not that other people are the titanosaurs, but it’s all of my fears and anxiety about not being good enough and I’m trying not to get crushed by all of it, and I’m getting really overwhelmed now, and I’m crying a lot, so I’m going to take a break now for a bit.

Your friend,

Cyrus

P.S. I’m okay now—I just really couldn’t see what I was typing anymore, so I went down to the living room and got some of the fancy new tissues Todd bought yesterday (it was this whole big thing because apparently our old brand was rated low on customer satisfaction in the latest issue of  _ Consumer’s Digest _ and all that). But, um, back to what we were discussing earlier: I’m scared—a lot. Everything scares me, whether it’s the idea that everyone’s right in thinking of me as being totally helpless or just plain old dangers like bees and heights.

You don’t think of me as helpless, though. I mean, sure, I probably do need some help to deal with all of my issues, but you make me feel like I can do things—like I’m not a fraud. You make me feel confident, and I don’t get to feel like that often, so thank you again, for, like, the fifth time or whatever—you’ve helped me too many times for me to keep track of it all anymore.

You make me feel… like a Mesozoic mammal. I am a Mesozoic mammal, whether I chose to hide that fact or not. But you make me feel like a CONFIDENT ancient rat-like creature—like one that knows how to dodge all the titanosaur feet that would crush me and how to catch a good meal of insects and how to be okay.

You make me feel like I’m okay.

* * *

Dear TJ,

It happened—I’m finally a man! A newly-minted Jewish man who’s officially out to two whole human people now! And the fictional human person that is you! It’s so freeing to finally be able to talk about it with Andi now—I really was worried she was just going to be super jealous because I had feelings for Jonah, but lo and behold she’s actually the decent human being I always knew she was! Still, it means a lot of questions about all of my feelings and that’s kind of tiring, but at least it’s a nice change of pace from hearing about all of her relationship problems. The girl is/was (still unsure about that part) dating what seems to be more of a cardboard cut-out of Jonah than an actual fully-realized being. Makes me kind of glad that she’s dealing with him upfront and I’m just crushing from the backline.

Kind of. I’m honestly kind of feeling a bit weird about Jonah right now. He’s still cute and all that, but I can DEFINITELY tell that I probably wouldn’t want a relationship with him right now. Or like, whatever he and Andi have/had, because no one really seems to know what it actually is—but enough about Jonah and Andi! Today’s all about me, and the only way that I can think of celebrating that fact is by dumping a shipload of words onto this page and calling it a letter!

I’m 13 (I mean, I have been for a few days now, but it’s whatever), and my parents got along well enough today, and I got to do a dance number with Buffy and Andi, and I’m just smiling a bunch because it all actually went so well and I had the time of my life! I only stumbled over my reading like three times, and people really liked my suit, and the food was all so good and I did so much fun stuff that all my limbs feel unbelievably tired and numb, like they were replaced with gelatin replicas when I wasn’t paying attention. There was a fortune-teller, and caricaturist, several bouncy houses, and even a chocolate fountain (which I avoided, because I’m pretty sure I saw my cousin Jeremy stick his grubby little fingers into it at one point), and it was all so wonderful and fun and honestly kind of the catharsis I needed after all my worrying these last few weeks. Everything’s working out finally, and I couldn’t be any more happy with it all.

Oh, by the way, I’m really happy that you actually came! I mean, you said you would and all that, but I still had my doubts (I mean, I still sometimes doubt that Andi and Buffy will come to things because they secretly dislike me, so it’s nothing personal or anything—just anxiety). But yeah, you came! We didn’t really get the opportunity to talk much, but you loosened that cork for me, and I honestly am super impressed that you were able to do that, because that cork would NOT budge for me one bit and yet you made it seem actually possible—I guess basketball really does help with developing upper body strength.

But it’s honestly a bit confusing also? I couldn’t stop thinking about how nice and sweet and kind that was, because you just let me get away with pretending I did all the work and I never even got to say thank you! But I also think it’s something else? I mean, it’s not like I’m just thinking about how it made me feel—I can’t get the whole scene out of my head. I can’t get over the little face you made when you had a little trouble with the cork at first, the way that one little lock of hair fell over your forehead, how I could kind of smell both the cider and you (I don’t even know how I even know what you smell like, but I guess I do?), and even just the satisfied little smile you gave me after you handed it over—like you were so proud of doing that for me. I… don’t know what it is, but I’m really just unable to get you out of my head, TJ. And yet... I don’t really even want to stop replaying that scene over and over again. 

I think you may have really done something to me, Kippen.

Your friend,

Cyrus

P.S. The fortune-teller said I wasn’t going to graduate from an Ivy League, so I really hope she said something horrible to you too so that we can both agree it was a load of baloney. I don’t even know who hired her, but I know for a fact that I would much rather never see her at a party again.

P.P.S. I take it back—I hope she didn’t say something devastating to you, because you probably don’t know that it’s all definitely fake and might take it to heart and be crushed, and I would much rather you not be crushed because that’s not great, and you’re a great person, and I don’t know why I’m rambling about this, because this isn’t really important information at all.

But regardless, I hope you liked the party just as much as I did! I wouldn’t want you to hate it or anything, because you were invited and I kind of want to impress you a little bit (but in a normal, I-want-to-be-your-cool-friend kind of way, you know?)

And thank you for the cider again!

* * *

Dear TJ,

Buffy’s moving.

I hate that fortune-teller.

Your friend,

Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

Buffy’s still moving.

Andi tried to see if she could stay in her old room at Cici’s (or however that’s spelled? Andi’s family has weird names), but no luck there—even though she was cool with letting Buffy stay there for the rest of the school year (which I honestly did NOT expect her to even remotely consider), Buffy’s mom just didn’t want to be without Buffy for any longer, which I get, but it still just sucks, because I’m going to miss Buffy probably just as much, and Andi too, and that’s like twice as much as her mom does when you add that together.

Now I can’t stop thinking about math, and how Buffy would probably roast me for making that bad math analogy, and now I just miss her even more. I really don’t want to see her go—she’s probably my best friend, even more so than Andi (no shade thrown her way). I know you two still aren’t totally getting along, but at the very least you can probably miss her for me, or for all the cool shots she does during games! But regardless, she’s leaving in ten days, and I don’t know what to do in the meantime except wail and complain to you about it on this dumb Word doc.

I mean, I can probably text you about this—I mean, you insisted we trade numbers at my bar mitzvah, so I might as well actually talk to you about this instead of just writing letters you’re never going to see. I mean, it’s not like I’ve been avoiding talking to you since then or anything.

Actually, I have, but it’s just because I don’t know what to say. I mean, I can’t just come out swinging like, “Hey, you deeply confuse me, and I feel this strange urge to impress you whenever you’re near me.” I guess I could, but I feel like that would just scare you more than anything, and I feel like every aborted attempt I’ve thought of so far has just been inadequate, and I really don’t want to embarrass myself in front of you.

But I’m going to try, so wish me luck… in talking to you. Or whatever. It doesn’t fully make sense, but wish me luck anyway because you’re nice and I need it to feel better about myself and my chances.

Your friend,

Cyrus

P.S. It’s Cece, not spelled like the pizza place. According to Andi, she gets mad at that comparison, but hey, she’s not here to read this, so I’m going to use it anyway because it makes me laugh, and I need all the laughs I can get right now.

P.P.S. I forgot my em dash last time, so here—I have an extra one to make up for missing it.

* * *

Dear TJ,

Life is suffering.

I mean, not really, because pumpkin donuts exist, but other than that I would have to say that life is pure suffering. Andi wanted Buffy and I to go out with her and recreate our “perfect day,” and our attempt went downhill from the start. Rusty bikes; me being out of shape; getting stung by some horrid bee; losing my shoe, our phones, and our bikes—you name it and it probably happened to us out there.

It was an adventure though, so I think you can be proud of me for undertaking something out of my comfort zone! I mean, we actually texted earlier tonight about this, and you said pretty much those exact words, but I kind of really liked when you said that to me, so I’m saying it again so I can savor that feeling once more.

This isn’t totally related to what I was talking about earlier, but I think I’ve earned a bit of distraction from all the Buffy-related stuff going on right now—like don’t get me wrong, I really am going to miss her, but I can’t spend all my time crying about the fact that she’s moving away; crying a bunch kind of interferes with this new foundation I’ve been trying. I mean, I probably shouldn’t tell you about this because you’re a jock and all that, but I really can’t resist the urge to just blabber on about it and you haven’t said anything mean about all the other embarrassing stuff I’ve told you here yet, so I think it’ll be alright if I just share this one extra thing with you too.

Andi and Buffy have been helping me experiment with basic make-up and I cannot tell you just how fun it is! I mean, sure, I’m still getting the hang of it, and my painting skills are absolutely atrocious, but foundation is really easy to start with, and now that I don’t really have to spend a bunch of time practicing for my bar mitzvah, I can spend whole hours in my bathroom trying out all the stuff Bex said matched my skintone.

It’s her fault really—I was over with Andi at the Fringe a little while ago and asked her about some of the products and she offered to demonstrate them. I didn’t really know that she intended to demonstrate them on ME, but when she spun me around in that chair to show me how it all looked, I felt really fancy and nice and altogether like the best-looking boy out there—well, maybe except for you, but I think you have a more rugged, handsome look than I do, which I realize is a weird thing to say about a friend, but I’m talking about make-up with the straightest guy I know, so I think I’m a little too far in to be complaining about poor wording. Regardless, it’s a great look on me, even if my talent is a far cry from what Bex is able to do (she went to cosmetology school though, so I should probably stop comparing myself to her).

Maybe I could get you to try some? I mean, you certainly don’t need it to look good or anything, but I think you’d maybe like it? And we could do it together—I’ve been looking for an excuse to hang out with you, to be honest.

But I don’t think you’d be on-board with that, and I don’t want you to judge me or anything for being too girly or gross or whatever. I guess I just really want to explore some boundaries with you? That sounds kind of weird, but it’s true—you pushed me on those swings a month ago, and now (or in the future) I can push you through the medium of excessive amounts of eyeshadow.

Your friend,

Cyrus

P.S. Seriously though, I don’t know how to tone down my eye make-up, so if you want me to help you with that you’re going to have to wait a bit. But in the meantime, we can still just talk. I always enjoy it when we do that.

* * *

Dear TJ,

I really enjoyed our conversation last night! It was so exciting to stay up late and text you about meaningless stuff like our favorite colors and our worst party experiences—who knew you had something to top 2012’s Hanukkah regifting debacle (I’ll never be able to look at a cocktail dress the same way ever again). I mean, I know we talked about other, deeper stuff too, since we can’t just talk about how many hoodies you own (too many) or whether crunchy or creamy peanut butter is better (the world isn’t ready for the crunchy truth), but I just can’t help but giggle when I think about it all.

I mean, I don’t really giggle about the parts where we shared our fears (still feel like a bit of a wuss for saying mine was bees—how was I supposed to know that you were going to dig deep and say yours was being universally hated?) or where you talked about your grandparents, but it was still oddly nice to hear about all the deeper stuff? Not in like a creepy way or anything, but it was nice to feel… trusted? Like your special confidant, I guess? It’s hard to explain, but knowing you, I think you’d forgive me for that.

That feels nice to say. I really like feeling like I don’t have to apologize all the time when I’m with you—I mean, I still do because old habits die hard and all that, but you always tell me it’s okay or that you like all the weird ways I say things, like how last night I referenced the weird paleontology metaphor, and then I panicked because I thought it would be embarrassing, but you thought it was really cool and asked me to explain it and I got to geek out for a bit and you said it was nice and cute and all that and I felt really, really good after that.

Actually, I forgot to talk about the last questions, the ones that made my face heat up and me feel all giddy and weird inside—kind of like anxiety, to be honest, but I think it was a mix of that and… other feelings? Not really sure what those said other feelings are, but they were there for sure.

But anyway, yeah, those last few questions—I actually don’t know how to segue into talking about them because I don’t even know what to say, so I’m just going to go out on a limb and try something here.

Why did you want to know who I’ve kissed?

I mean, straight guys don’t ask that question, right? Especially not basketball jocks with nice hair who talk to weird nerdy guys who just complain on some random Microsoft Word document about their life’s problems. Then why did you? I mean, it made me feel super nice and special and… like you were interested in me? Not in like a crush way, but like you cared about who I was.

I mean, I’m probably just being stupid and overthinking all of this because I don’t think any guy has ever liked me like how I like guys, and I think I might really want to be liked by a guy, but not particularly any single one at the moment—you’re probably just an easy target for my projection because you’re the only one besides Jonah who talks to me regularly, and Jonah’s… Jonah.

I need to stop now—any more of this and I might get myself confused beyond any sort of help. It’s all okay, really—I’m just being weird and I know deep down that you don’t like me, and you can’t because you’re TJ, and I don’t like you, and this is just a nice friendship and nothing else.

Totally.

Your friend,

Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

I made the very stupid decision to play  _ Property! _ today, and fell victim to the very same capitalist trap the game is supposed to educate its players about—unfortunately, Buffy and Jonah were also involved (though Buffy seemed to be mostly unscathed by the whole incident), and that proved to be the worst part of today.

Sure, school was out (due to a power failure no less—a rare occurrence), and that’s simply wonderful, but I was foolish and connived my way into having Buffy and Jonah over at my dad’s, with a boxed set of pure evil (and six cute tokens) sitting between us. It all started off well enough, but Buffy’s relentless inner tycoon stripped me, and eventually Jonah, dry, leaving us all frustrated, upset, and somewhat hungry.

It was then that Jonah flipped the board and walked off, leaving Buffy and I to investigate—turns out it was really just due to him and Andi still being in that weird semi-relationship zone—interesting stuff, really, but considering you don’t know either of them, I’m going to spare you most of the complicated details and just tell you that both of them are feeling lots of complex emotions and aren’t exactly communicating them with each other. Maybe I should invite them to a counseling session? 

Anyway, nothing else has really happened these last two days, so you’ll have to forgive me for this short letter… whenever you read these. Maybe I’ll actually share these with you someday, when I’m no longer embarrassed by all the juicy details and poor writing skills that they all contain.

But someday nonetheless.

Your friend,

Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

I still can’t stop thinking about Buffy—it’s only been a few days since we got the news about her leaving, but it still seems like she’s leaving tomorrow, and that I’m never going to see her again, even if I know that that isn’t true at all. I’m mostly just spending all the time I have not spent at school or with Buffy just moping on my bed thinking about Buffy, and I can’t really talk to Andi about it, because it’s just going to make us both even sadder, and I don’t think I can talk to you about this either, because you and her still aren’t getting along really.

I mean, I’m still currently talking to you about it, but this isn’t really you (not yet, anyway, as you still don’t have access to this document, and I’m actually thinking that I might not share this with you, because it IS super embarrassing, but I can tell you that later), so it’s different. I mean, you might be best buds with Buffy in the future, but for right now, you guys aren’t on speaking terms, so I’m just stuck venting here. I mean, it still helps to vent all my feelings on the situation here, but I don’t get any advice back because these letters aren’t getting sent out to you, and that just sucks. Complaining only helps so much, and it’s just… a lot. A lot to deal with, a lot to complain about, and a lot to constantly be reminded over.

The fact that she’s leaving in less than a week is constantly looming over me, and I can’t shake it off, and it’s just completely awful. Part of me wishes she just didn’t tell anyone until the day she was moving so we wouldn’t have to worry about this all the time.

But it isn’t really fair to make her hold that horrible news in for a whole ten days, so I guess I just have to suffer anyway for her sake. It all sucks, and I’m sick of it.

Your friend,

Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

You have dyscalculia. And I helped with that somehow?

I guess I talked with you about it and helped reassure you that it was okay, but it’s weird to hear that I helped you with something? And kind of nice, too, but like, I can’t just gush over that all over this letter—it’s weird.

Actually, no, I can do that, so I will.

I really liked talking with you today, and you made me feel really good inside because I got to see that you really were that Mesozoic mammal that I KNEW you really were, and I got you to take off that clunky titanosaur suit, and we got to scurry around together, and I got to make you feel like everything’s going to be okay and fine and dandy, just like how you make me feel all the time, and it was really nice.

Plus, you didn’t get annoyed at me for not really knowing anything about the game or basketball in general, or that I was yelling out Buffy’s name through a megaphone, and I guess I was really nervous that you’d be mad at me for all of that. But you weren’t, so it’s okay!

Well, Buffy’s not the happiest that I was talking to you during the game, but she seems mostly okay with it because I explained everything to her, and offered to get her baby taters and hype her up more than usual, so it’s all good and everything. I really can’t see how this would go wrong at all honestly, so I’m sure that everything’s going to work out and be okay and you and Buffy can end up not hating each other by the end of the week (or maybe even next game)!

At least, I’m not completely certain that it’ll all work out, anyway. Pretty sure, though!

I think.

Your friend,

Cyrus

* * *

Dear TJ,

I can’t be friends with you any more.

Your ???,

Cyrus

**Author's Note:**

> Um, if you really liked this, or have any other sort of feedback you'd like to give me, please let me know! You can always follow me for updates on Twitter (@cyrusgoodhair) or even DM me if you want—I'm always up for talking to anyone.
> 
> I really appreciate you guys reading this, and I can't wait to show you more of these letters down the road! Until next time!


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